Measure in Love
by seriouscaseofthegayface
Summary: "You know, when you stop and think about it, Kurt Hummel's had a pretty good year."


**A/N: Hi everybody! Well, this is my first Glee/Klaine fanfiction, so be gentle! The title comes from the BEAUTIFUL Rent song 'Seasons Of Love'. Reviews make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, so don't hesitate to drop me a line telling me what you thought. I hope you enjoy the story!**

Well, this is it.

After a long summer of girly sleepovers with Mercedes and shopping and watching bootleg videos of 'Wicked' online and attempting to pluck Finn's eyebrows while he slept and organizing Vogue magazines by fashion trend and teaching his dad how to cook something that wasn't toast and slathering himself in copious amounts of sunscreen, (because if Kurt Hummel were to _ever_ get sunburnt, he's pretty sure he would just die of embarrassment) he's here. Junior year of high school.

And sure, maybe last year wasn't the easiest year, but he got through it. And now he's ready to take on this year even more fabulous than before (if that's even possible). New hairstyle, new wardrobe, new attitude, same old fierce fashionista.

Look out, William McKinley High School. This is going to be the best year of Kurt Hummel's life.

* * *

><p><em>My name's Blaine.<em>

* * *

><p>When Kurt emerges from the restroom on that first day of school, he's greeted with a godforsaken stench - hasn't Jacob Ben Israel <em>heard <em>of antiperspirant? - and a microphone in his face, but it doesn't phase him. He doesn't run away, or duck back into the restroom, like he might have once upon a time. He's not sophomore!Kurt anymore. He's junior year!Kurt, ready to take on the world.

"You know what, Jacob? It doesn't take much courage for people to park their cottage-cheese behinds in their barker-loungers and log onto the internet and start tearing people down, does it? But do you know what does take some courage? Standing up and _singing_ about something." He turns to the camera with a well-practiced 'bitch, please' smirk. "So here's a message for everyone that reads your blog: next time, instead of posting an anonymous comment online, say what you have to say _to my face_."

His inspiring speech is greeted with the cold, hard, all-too-familiar slap of a cherry slushee to the face.

"Welcome back, lady!" Someone croons as they pass by. Sounds like Azimio. Figures.

Kurt's eyes are already beginning to sting as the ice drips its way down his brand new outfit.

Maybe this year isn't going to be that different after all.

* * *

><p><em>For the record, you are much better than that girl's gonna be.<em>

* * *

><p>"Guys, we're not doing Britney Spears. And that's that."<p>

Ugh. Typical Mr Schue. Shying away from doing _anything _exciting with this club, as ever. It's infuriating.

Something about the entire absurdity of this situation (hello! How much more iconic do you get than _Britney Freakin' Spears_?) causes Kurt to snap. "Mr Schue, you are letting your own personal issues get in the way of something we are telling you we all really want to do!" Mercedes nods affirmation beside him, spurring him on. "I mean, this club regularly pays tribute to pop culture and Britney Spears _is _pop culture! To suggest otherwise is -"

"Kurt! I'm done talking about this!"

Kurt shouldn't say what he says next. But he really, really likes Britney Spears, okay?

"Geez, let loose a little, would you? Stop being so freaking uptight all the time!"

That strikes a chord.

"Kurt," Mr Schue looks upset. But Kurt's so _angry _right now that this doesn't even faze him. Well, at least it doesn't until Mr Schue sighs and says, "I'll see you in the principal's office."

Great.

He's thankful that his outfit is particularly fabulous today - it makes his exit all the more dramatic as he stomps out of the room. Maybe he's acting immature, but right now he can't muster up the energy to care.

It's the second week of school, and he's being sent to the principal's office.

Just great.

* * *

><p><em>I really, really care about you.<em>

* * *

><p>"Dad?"<p>

It's too quiet in here.

The only sound in the room is the constant beeping of that infernal life support machine. The endless beeping that makes Kurt's ears ring and seems to fill his entire head and stop him from thinking straight.

But if his head's so full of beeping, why does he still feel so _empty_?

He feels like nothing. Like there's nothing inside of him. So he reaches out and takes his dad's hand because he needs something solid to hold on to, before the emptiness and that stupid, stupid beeping overwhelm him.

"Can you hear me?"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"If you can hear me, squeeze my hand. I'm holding yours right now."

He can feel tears welling up and threatening to spill out onto his cheeks, but crying's not going to work. He tried it on the way here. He still doesn't feel anything.

"Just squeeze back. Come on, Dad. Just squeeze my hand."

Beep. Beep. Beep. Seconds tick by.

Nothing.

* * *

><p><em>Oh, there you are. I've been looking for you forever.<em>

* * *

><p>"Dad, you have <em>no <em>idea what it's like." Kurt doesn't know where all of this is coming from, and he shouldn't even be saying it anyway because his dad's supposed to be relaxing until his stress test, but suddenly he feels like he needs to get this all off of his chest - fast. "I am the only openly gay kid at school. In this town!"

He's saying all this hoping that his dad will understand. But he won't _really _understand, will he, Kurt? No one ever does.

"I mean, why can't I walk hand-in-hand down the hall with the person that I like? Why can't I slowdance at my prom?"

Those are the things that Kurt wants most in life. The things he'll never get to do.

"C'mere," Burt murmurs, and Kurt grudgingly sits down beside him. "You think I don't want those things for you? I do. You know, until you find someone as open, and as brave as you... You're just gonna have to get used to going it alone."

Alone.

That's how Kurt feels every day.

He sinks back into the couch, leaning his head on his dad's shoulder.

It's days like these when he feels like he's going to be alone forever.

* * *

><p><em>I am crazy about you.<em>

* * *

><p>Karofsky shoves against the lockers with a little whine of frustration, and then he's gone.<p>

Kurt stays frozen to the spot, a hand over his lips.

His lips, which seconds ago had had another pair of dry, chapped, horrible lips pressed against them. His first kiss. His first proper kiss, anyway.

It wasn't supposed to feel like this. He was supposed to be filled with some warm, wonderful feeling that made him feel safe and loved and want to kiss the other person back. It was supposed to be sweet and soft and breathless and _right_, with beautiful piano music playing inside of Kurt's head as lips moved together gracefully.

It was never meant to be forced on Kurt by someone who had abused him every day of his high school life, all rushed and disgusting with the stench of boy sweat from the locker room filling his nostrils. That was wrong. It was all _wrong_.

His knees suddenly buckle, and he has to lean against a locker for support. Kurt hates this. He hates this school, and this town, and Dave Karofsky, and being gay, and just… everything. He hates everything.

He was wrong before, when he walked into school at the start of the year. He's always wrong. That kiss was wrong. His entire existence is just wrong, wrong, wrong.

This is, most definitely, the worst year of his life.

* * *

><p><em>I love you.<em>

* * *

><p>Kurt almost chokes on his coffee. He waits for Blaine to laugh or stammer awkwardly and retract the statement or actually be looking at some really hot Spanish guy with killer muscles that's standing behind him… But he doesn't, and he isn't.<p>

He's just staring at Kurt with this expression that fills Kurt with a sudden warmth that starts in his fingertips and then spreads to fill his entire being. Because he knows that look. He's seen it before.

It's the look that Finn gave Rachel just before they kissed at Nationals. It's the look Burt gave Carole when they shared their first dance as a married couple. It's the look Mr Schuester gives Miss Pillsbury when they pass each other in the halls, the look Santana gives Brittany when she thinks nobody else can see them, the look Mike gives Tina whenever she sings, the look Puck gives Lauren constantly before berating anyone who tries to call him out on it. It's the look that his mom is giving his dad in their wedding photo on the mantlepiece.

And Kurt finally knows what that look is. It's love.

And Blaine is actually giving _him _that look. Blaine loves him. And, Kurt realizes with a sudden jolt, he loves him right back.

"I love you, too."

It feels so right, and simple, and perfect, and easy as breathing. Because it's true. And when Blaine smiles at him, Kurt finds himself giving Blaine the look too.

"You know, when you stop and think about it," Kurt smiles at his boyfriend, his boyfriend who he's in love with, and who's in love with him. "Kurt Hummel's had a pretty good year."

And that's an understatement. This year, Kurt Hummel got to go to New York, he got to sing on a Broadway stage, he became just one degree of separation from Patti LuPone (thank you, Rachel Berry). This year, Kurt Hummel met the boy of his dreams. The boy that held his hand in the halls like it was the easiest thing in the world, and kissed him like he never wanted to stop, and sang a duet with him in front of a massive crowd of people, and slowdanced with him at his prom, and just told him he loved him.

This year, Kurt Hummel met Blaine Anderson.

Yes, this year truly has been the best year of Kurt Hummel's life.


End file.
